


Peculiar Harry Potter (He calls it magic)

by Sincerely_Devra



Series: He Calls It Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-08-24 20:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16647137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Devra/pseuds/Sincerely_Devra
Summary: What if Harry Potter...discovered he was a wizard on his own?ran away from the Dursleys?was sorted into Slytherin?became friends with Draco Malfoy?and Draco Malfoy's friendship became something more?or:Harry Potter knew he was peculiar. When strange things began to occur, Harry didn't know what to make of it, but he decided to call it magic.------This story begins YEAR ONE. A very, very, so very slow burn (Friends to lovers) HP/DM. With eventual underage consensual sex between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Tags and warnings to be updated as the story progresses.





	1. He calls it magic

**Author's Note:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.

_Strange, odd, unusual._ The taunts the jeers. Harry has heard it all. The pain of those words hurt almost worse than the casual abuse inflicted on him from a young age. The open palmed slaps, the cuffs to the back of the head, the pinches, the neglect and near starvation all let Harry Potter know that he was an unwanted burden for his aunt and uncle from the moment he was orphaned and abandoned on their steps at 15 months old. Alone and unloved. 

      Oh, he tried! To be good. To do as he was told and not asked questions. But his heart and soul was battered and bruised, like his body should have been, except it wasn't. The bruises disappeared, save the memories of the phantom pain. 

      And he endured. And he suffered in silence.

     Until something happened that would change his life forever. Harry couldn't explain what _it_ was exactly, but he decided to call it _magic_. 

     So, he ran away. But he wasn't a coward. No, his matra was 'live to fight another day'. He would use his new found magic, and cunning, and resourcefulness to survive. Because Harry Potter had ambition, alright. He was going to be something other than _just Harry_. 


	2. Lock Away the Reminders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia Dursley has a hard time dealing with the reminders of her deceased sister. So she locks them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.
> 
> Warning: Child abuse!  
> Get some tissues.

       October 31, 1981

       Petunia Dursley couldn't have known what fate lay in wait for her younger sister that night. Afterall, the last time they saw each other was at Petunia's and Vernon's wedding. When Lily and James' announced their own enempials, Petunia and Vernon did not attend in return. In fact, the last letter Petunia received from her sister was the announcement of her nephews birth. 

      _We have a witch in the family, isn't that lovely?_

Lily Potter née Evans was the only witch born to a non-magical family. Muggle as those...people...no those wizardkind called normal people, such as herself. And her husband. And no doubt her perfect son.   

        Perfectly ordinary. Yes, that's what her and her family were. And she wouldn't have it any other way. So, after reading the letter she, scoffed and promptly threw it in the rubbish bin and went about tending to her own month old son, Dudley. In her opinion, her son was the perfect cherub, with chubby cheeks and golden curls. 

       She did; however, send a Christmas gift of an unextraordinary vase. That was the extent of her correspondence with her sister. She never got a letter in reply. She pushed the hurt away. It's not like she cared one iota about her freak of a sister, and her no doubt just as strange and abnormal son. 

       Or so she told herself for the nth time, even as the twin of that vase sat on display in her own home.  

       Petunia couldn't have known that by the time Christmas rolled around, Lily and James Potter were in hiding.

      She couldn't have known about the prophecy that doomed their fate.

      She couldn't have known that as she sang her own precious son to sleep Halloween night, Lily was trying to sooth her own frightened son behind a locked nursery door and a broken _fidelius_ charm.           

    _Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetops_
    _When the wind blows the cradle will rock_
    _When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall_
    _Down will come baby, cradle and all._

    "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! I'll hold him off!"     

    _Baby is drowsing, cosy and fair_
    _Mother sits near in her rocking chair_
    _Forward and back, the cradle she swings_
    _Though baby sleeps, he hears what she sings_

     "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please... I’ll do anything ..."

     "Stand aside ... stand aside, girl ..."  

    Rock-a-bye baby, do not you fear
    Never mind, baby, mother is near
    Wee little fingers, eyes are shut tight
    Now sound asleep - until morning light.

      "Harry!" 

* * *

      November 1, 1981

      Petunia didn't know what to do with another babe to take care of. She had her own son, and now she had Lily's son to take care of as well. She paced in her kitchen with lace curtains and clean countertops, thumbnail chewed down to the quick. 

      She could hardly believe that her only sister was dead. The younger sister that as a child had loved and cherished, then envied. Their relationship had been strained the last few years. And now, she was expected to believe that Lily Potter was dead. Why wasn't she told to come identify her sister's remains? The only evidence was her sister's babe, Harry. And a letter requesting Petunia and her husband Vernon, to raise him. But mostly she, because the protection spell her sister, the witch, cast on Harry only worked if she as his blood relative watched over him. She almost didn't believe it.

      Vernon, had only screamed red faced, "Drop the boy off at an orphanage, I cannot be expected to feed another mouth in this house!". He then left for work.     

 Her poor Dudders was in distraught over having another babe in the house. His face was scrunched up and red as he wailed for having his crib taken over by this scrawny upstart. Her nephew, Harry on the other hand? Not a peep. He just stared at her solemnly with Lily's eyes. His face a perfect blend of his parents genetics. Lily's eyes with James darker and wilder hair. Suddenly, Harry smiled and Petunia was again reminded of her dead sister in the shape of the lips and forming of a goofy grin. 

     Lily and Petunia both shared the same eye shape and nose. Did Harry think Petunia was his mama?

      Fighting back a sudden prickle of tears, she marched over to his crib. Taking the 15 month old beneath the armpits, and hosted the babe none too gently out of her son's crib. 

      Harry James Potter is not her son. She would give him a place to stay until the blood magic that protected him wore off or the Dark Lord who murdered her sister was killed or locked up for good. She and her husband would be compensated for fostering the boy. She would feed, clothe, and provide a roof over his head as was requested of her, but she didn't have to like the situation, nor did she have to love her nephew. 

      Hauling the startled boy out the door and down the hall to the broom cupboard, she opened the door, pulled the string on the light above, and placed the boy on the carpeted floor next to the old broom and mop. She then closed the door. Only then did Harry begin to cry. 

       She paused before heading back into the kitchen before walking away with a tight throat and pinched lips. She had her son to take care of and a meal to prepare for her husband before he got home from work.  

      She didn't give herself time to mourn the loss of her only sister. She'd have time to mourn at the funeral. but for now she didn't have time for the distraction.

       Little did Petunia know, she would never get the chance to go to her sister's funeral. 

* * *

 

      December 24, 1986

      Petunia was humming as she prepared the final detail on the festive fruit cake to bring to her husband's office party for Christmas eve. She was dressed in a lovely cranberry button up blouse, and floral knee length skirt, stockings, and sensible heels. The only jewelry she wore was her wedding band, a pearl strung necklace, and matching earrings given to her by her husband on their last wedding anniversary. 

      The house was decorated with multicolored lights and red poinsettias. The house smelled like cinnamon and spiced wine. Gentle crooning Christmas music was playing throughout the house. Everything was perfect.

      The peace was suddenly broken by a loud crash from the next room, then the unmistakable sound of her six year old son's sobbing. 

      "BOY!" Her husband scream from the upstairs bedroom that shook the floorboards. Before she heard the sound of his heavy tread on the ceiling.  

    Rushing from the kitchen she hurried to her son. Her tall and very wide son ran into Petunia's arms, burying his pudgy face into Petunia's nearly nonexistent bosom, wailing "Mummy." 

     "Ssh, hush my Dudders, what's wrong."  

      The sobbing stopped long enough for her son the peer beneath her arms at the scrawny and quaking boy near the sparkling white lights of the Christmas tree with mischief. Unbeknownst to Petunia, Dudley smiled smugly at his slightly younger and much smaller cousin, before pointing to the scene of the crime. 

      Petunia looked to her left to see the vase that she kept on a stand next to the window. It was smashed into a million pieces. Her face drained of color, and the breath froze in her chest for a second. Shock, then sadness, then anger flooded across her face. Letting go of her son, she marched over to her nephew who starred frightened up at her with large green eyes. She slapped Harry's face, leaving a red handprint that covered the whole left side of his face and a thin line of blood from where her nail scratched his face. her flat bosom heaved up and down with excursion, and her face now matched her blouse from anger. 

     That vase had sat in her living room for over five years, the only keepsake of her dead sister she allowed in the house. Now it was shattered at her feet in the wake of Lily's son's feet. 

      With a bruising and sharp nailed grip, she marched Harry to his broom cupboard where Harry slept for a room. She ignored the small voice proclaiming his innocence.

      "But aunt Petunia! It wasn't me! I didn't do it." The tiny voice protested as she opened the door, shoved him inside. 

       "Shut up, you little freak!" She hissed in his face before slamming the door in his pale and gaunt face, and locked it from the outside. 

       This all happened by the time her husband made his blimp of a self down the stairs. He saw the vase, his wife and son, the green eyes just barely peering out from the vent beneath the stairs. He could assess the situation for himself. 

       Shutting the vent on the door of the cupboard that his nephew was locked in with a sharp snap of the wrist, he said gruffly, "Let's go! Don't want to be too late." 

       Harry sat down with arms wrapped around his knees, he didn't bother turning on the light. His cheek felt hot, and swollen. He raised one trembling hand to his stinging cheek. Hissing, he pulled his damp hand away. He was in shock. That was the first time his aunt had ever hit him. Usually it was just Dudley that pummeled him. 

       When the vase crashed to the floor in the living room, Harry had been running away from his cousin. He ducked around the vase and narrow gap behind the couch, crawling to the other side. His cousin was too big to fit behind the couch, but that didn't stop him from trying. It was then that the vase crashed to the floor, no doubt by Dudley's flailing leg. 

      Harry knew that vase was special to his aunt, and that Dudley would blame it on him. Wiping away sudden tears, he tried to hold back sniffles. In his young heart, he wished that the vase could somehow magically repair itself. 

     With blood rushing in his ears, and quiet sobs racking his shoulders, Harry did not hear the soft tinkle of glass flowing into each other from the floor and then a vase, whole once more, smoothly soaring to its pedestal. 

      When the Dursleys returned that night, Dudley was passed out on his father's shoulder. The husband and wife stood in the foreir, stunned speechless.

      Vernon, snarled once, before going upstairs to tuck Dudley in bed. Petunia stepped into the living room, seeing her vase, the twin to her sister's, whole once more. As if by magic. The wonder on her face was replaced by fear. Turning to the cupboard, she was relieved to find it closed and locked. Vernon checked for himself on the way back downstairs that the boy was still locked securely in the cupboard. Grunting once, he made his way to the kitchen. 

       In the kitchen he grabbed a beer and plopped his heavy weight down in his chair. twisting the cap before taking a swing, he looked at his wife with beady eyes. 

      "I will not stand this nonsense in my home, Tunnie." He said. "Do something about the boy or I will."

       Petunia was shocked by her husbands words. "But...but Vernon, he must stay. My sister...the murderer is still out there...he's after Harry!" 

       "I don't care. I cannot have that freak around my son. He's dangerous."

       "He's only six years old...about the same age as my sister was when she started to show her Mmm..." Petunia cut off before she nearly said the 'm' word in front of her husband. "He can learn to control it..." At her husbands look, she changed her story. "We'll squash it out of him...eventually."

       "Good, you do that." He got up after taking the last swing of the bottle and the creaking of the chair and the popping of his knees. "And, Petunia. Get rid of the vase. We can't have him know." 

       Petunia was left white faced in the harsh lights of the kitchen. With trembling hands, and shaky breath, she took the vase and moved it to the attic. That's not what her husband meant, but she couldn't bare to get rid of that vase. She didn't even know where the twin vase was. It was probably shattered long ago. She locked it in a chest, along with some old photographs of when they were children, and other reminders of her deceased sister. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. Magic: Making the Impossible Possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever make anything happen? Anything you couldn't explain when you were angry or scared?
> 
>  
> 
> -Rubeus Hagrid,  
> Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> \------

       His aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon, were very sensible, non-nonsense type of people. And in the nearly ten years that Harry Potter lived with his relatives he learned some fundamental lessons.

       For one, there is nothing his aunt and uncle hated more that Harry asking questions. In fact, what he knew about himself was pitifully non-existent. When he was fifteen months old he was orphaned on his aunt and uncles doorstep after his parents died in a car crash that left the uniquely lightning bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow. That was all he knew about his existence in the world. 

        He didn't even know his whole name before he entered primary school. Before then, he only answered to "Boy" or "Freak". Harry James Potter. _James? Was that his father's name? Harry Potter. Harry._ It wasn't anything spectacular. Nothing special Harry Potter, that was him. 

        When Harry looked in the mirror, other than the scar on his forehead, he didn't see someone spectacular. He saw a pale and scrawny boy, littler than all the other boys in his class ("Let's Play Harry hunting! Get the runt! Wimp!" said all the bullies at school). He had wildly untamed ebony hair, ("a birds nest," his aunt calls it) with startling emerald green eyes ("Eerie, don't look at me Freak," his uncle says), behind dark round rimmed specs for his nearsightedness ( "four-eyed dork," his cousin, Dudley says).   

       You wouldn't even know that there was a fourth occupant of number 4 Privet drive outside school records and dusty social workers files, of course. Not most neighbours, nor work colleagues.  In the house that he didn't call home, he lived like a dirty secret hidden in the broom cupboard beneath the stairs. 

      Secondly, his relatives did not believe in magic. Magic did not exist. Period. Exclamation mark. End of discussion. The 'm' word was forbidden in his relatives house. Saying the 'm' word would earn Harry a one way trip to his cupboard. 

     They didn't even believe in birthday wishes or Christmas miracles. Santa Claus and the tooth-fairy, dragons and unicorns, or elves and fairies, were all simply children's fantasies, pretend, and make believe. 

      Yet, peculiar things just seemed to happen around Harry that he just couldn't explain away with science or rationale. Without knowing how or why, Harry knew he was the cause. Why else would he be punished for the unexplainable phenomena that encompassed his life.  

     It should have been impossible, Harry thought to himself as he was once again locked in his cupboard without supper, for who knows how long this time. These peculiar things that kept happening around him. Sometimes they were small insignificant things, like his hair growing back at an alarming rate, or a sweater shrinking while his aunt tried to force it over his head. And now, he was being punished unfairly for inexplicably finding himself on the chimney of his primary schools kitchen. 

     It's not like he could control it. Otherwise he would surely tame his wild rat's nest of hair, or shrink the atrociously large and baggy clothes he was forced to wear, or have the winds fly him away from the Dursleys entirely instead of just the roof of his school. 

     The vast majority of the time it just got him in trouble, like today. But sometimes it was helpful, like the vase his cousin had broken while infamously "Harry hunting", he found in the attic while spring cleaning two summers ago, whole once more. Or the numerous times his broken bones mended and his bruises disappeared after a particular nasty beating.

      If only he could control it, whatever it was.

      The first thing he'd do is unlock the cupboard so he could sneak into the kitchen for a small snack that would probably be missed by his pig of a cousin Dudley, but not by his aunt or uncle.

       But how to control it. He didn't even know exactly what it was. I should be impossible. It was almost like magic, if magic existed. All the times these particular phenomena has occurred was when he was afraid. Could it be his emotions, were they only triggered by fear, or some other emotions. He was mortified by the sweater and hair cut, and scared for his life when he found himself on the roof, and was in mortal danger or at the very least in severe pain when he healed himself. And the vase? He didn't break it, but he deeply wished it was fixed.

       Could that be it? Could he channel his emotions and desires into a physical action?

      Harry's stomach grumbled and cramped with hunger pains. Holding his demanding stomach, Harry wished he could eat something so he could focus more. Harry knew that as punishment, he was going to go without meals for who knows how long. At least while in school, he was allowed a lunch. Sometimes during the school term that was the only meal Harry ate, if his cousin didn't steal his food. Harry considered himself lucky if he was fed on the weekends at all. But with his headmistress deciding to suspend him from St. Gorgory's Primary School for allegedly climbing school property, and it being so close to summer break, Harry knew he was going to stave unless he found a way to feed himself. 

     It was the middle of the night and the Dursleys were sleeping. Now would be the most opportune time to test out his theory. If Harry could perform magic, it was now or never. 

      Harry furrowed his brow, and closed his eyes to concentrate. He decided that the first thing he needed was to concentrate on what he wanted. _I need to get out of here, I need to get out of here, I need to..._

      Harry felt a tingling sensation in his hands, for a moment he got excited, thinking perhaps this was it. He opened his eyes to peer at the door.  _Nothing._ The tingling sensation had been the loss of circulation in his hands from clenching a fist too tight. 

      He wasn't deterred. A good scientist always made multiple experiences to test their hypothesis. 

       Closing his eyes once more, Harry decided to shift his thoughts. Perhaps his thoughts were not specific enough. Instead of thinking,  _I need to get out of here._ He thought,  _I need to unlock the cupboard, I need to unlock the cupboard._

       This new sensation was entirely different than before. Harry felt a different sensation along his whole body. As if cool air played against wet skin, goosebumps erupted across his body and his hair on his arms stood on end. Then as if a gentle breeze suddenly gusted through his cupboard, his bangs moved to reveal his lightning bolt shaped scar. He didn't open his eyes until he heard the sound of a brass chain sliding against wood.

       Harry opened his eyes to see the door of his cupboard slowly creak open on its own. Hope shined in his bright emerald green eyes, and a megawatt grin burst across his cheeks. 

       Harry was free.

       He made the impossible happen.  

       It was magic.    


	4. Magic Unlocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wouldn't starve in his cupboard for once. Because Harry Potter could do magic. Yes. Magic.

     He wouldn't starve in his cupboard for once. Because Harry Potter could do magic. Yes. Magic.  

     Harry's vision suddenly blurred and he didn't realize he was crying until a teardrop splashed onto his hand. He looked down in bewilderment at his shaking hand, not believing his emotions. _He was crying because he was happy?_  More tears swelled to the surface as did the hope and joy in his heart.

      A near inaudible sob racked his shoulders and Harry had to cover his mouth quickly to stifle the sound. He was finally able to escape his cupboard and he didn't want to ruin it and get caught by any of his family. Wiping his wet cheeks he squared his thin shoulders, and stiffened his lip. He had to be smart. If he was caught out of his cupboard, he was dead.

      Hesitantly and as quietly as possible he inched open the door, keeping a sharp ear out for the sound of his relatives awakening. He heard his uncles snores interrupted by a particularly loud snort, and then silence. Harry held his breath until he heard the snores resume. If he listened closer he could also hear the nasally snores of his aunt that sounded like the whiney of a horse. His cousin would be the hardest to hear. He didn't have a distinguishing breathing pattern while sleeping, yet. Instead of snoring or heavy breathing, he listened for the sound of squeaking floorboards overhead. Dudley would often get up in the middle of the night for midnight snacks, or to use the toilet. He listened closely for any signs of wakefulness. When he heard neither the sound of squeaky floorboards or the sound of the toilet flushing, he elected to wait ten more seconds. Just in case.

      He would often listen to the telly while gardening, because he wasn't allowed to watch television with his family or at all. In one of Dudley's favorite shows the hero would often wait ten seconds even after the coast was clear, just in case. It sounded like sound advise.  So, Harry waited the extra seconds, counting slowly to ten. 

      Deciding the coast was clear, Harry streaked out of the tiny space as quietly as possible and made it to the kitchen. He groaned when he reached the fridge. It had a padlock on it. So did the panty.  _How could he have forgotten his aunt's and uncle's paranoia?_ They wouldn't want him sneaking food. 

     Harry looked on in dread for a second, thinking he was not going to be able to climb onto the counter and unlock the padlock without waking the rest of the house up. But then a light dawned in his head. Harry was magic. Surely if he used magic once, he could do so again. The padlocks on the pantry required a key. while the combination lock on the fridge had a dial between zero and ninety-nine, with a three digit combination, and no numbers could repeat that gave Harry 99*98*97= 941,094 possible combinations. _How do burglars do it, if they didn't have any magic to help them?_

     The second time he used his magic to pop the lock on the pantry was easier. He was just about to use the same technique to do the combination lock, when an idea flew into his brain. With a shit eating grin, Harry waltzed  over to the fridge and calmly began to spin the dial. Dudley's birthday was the next day. He bet he knew the combination. When he heard the soft click of the lock, Harry grinned in toothy triumph. The combination had been 24-06-80. 

     He was just about to open the fridge when he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. The light might attract unwanted attention. Turning to the pantry using the light from above the stove and squinty in the dark, he rooted around the pantry. There were so many options to choose from. 

     He couldn't grab anything that would be missed. So that meant any of the crisps or biscuits. A shame really. Searching in a dusty corner, Harry found stale saltines, dried apricots, and a granola bar. None of these items would be missed. He didn't bother with trying for a bottled drink, he would be doing lawn work soon enough and was able to drink from the hose at anytime. Harry's lived many of summer's with only a full belly of water for substance. 

     Satisfied with his nights endeavors, Harry snuck back to the cupboard under the stairs. He hid his secret stash between the crook of one of the steps near his head, that could only be found by touch. The single lightbold that dangled overhead cast shadows over the tiny cavity and his family was none the wiser. 

     Before he slipped into one of the first comfortable sleeps in days, he waved his hand and locked himself (seemingly) back into the cupboard until his aunt released him in the morning to make breakfast in the morning for everyone else but him. 

      Tomorrow was Dudley's birthday, while they were out at the zoo Harry would practice and prepare for his escape. 

      


	5. Vanishing Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to the zoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter and future chapters mirrors JK Rowling's original Philosopher's Stone, the Harry Potter novel series, and WB film franchise, et al. 
> 
> No copyright was ever intended in writing of this fan fiction and I believe we all owe it to the wonderful imagination of JK Rowling and WB studios, et al. for bringing this world to life.
> 
> I have included some adaptations from the films as well as the books. Please, enjoy.

      "Up! Get Up! Now!" BANG. BANG. BANG. Harry was startled awake by his aunt Petunia's shrill voice. He stared groggily up at the underside of the stairs from the tiny cott in the tiny broom cupboard. As far as he knew he lived under these stairs for nearly ten years, ever since the death of his parents in a fatal car crash. 

       Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to hold onto the dream he had while asleep. He had been riding on a motorbike one cold evening through the sky over London. 

       Groping blindly for his glasses on the tiny shelf above his head, he heard a rustling of plastic as his hand grazed over a plastic packet. Pulling the item down into his lap first then groped for his glasses once more. Putting those on with his right hand while his left reached for the string to turn on the light above his cott. Suddenly his face broke open in a megawatt grin. He remembered everything from the night prior.

     "UP!" his aunt Petunia skreached, before he heard the sound of a brass chain once again scraping against the wooden door, this time by his aunt Petunia and not by magic. 

     "Are you up yet?" She demanded.

     "Nearly" Harry sassed back.

     "Get a move on. I want you to finish the bacon. And I want everything to be absolutely perfect for my Dudderkins birthday." She gushed. 

      Harry's grin broadened as he pumped the air with his fists in excitement. "yes." he whispered in excitement. only to jump when his aunt barked through the door, "What did you say?" 

      Schooling his expression into a solom mask, he said "Nothing, nothing..." 

      He listened ten seconds to see if his aunt would return, before he hummed a happy nonsesnual tune as he looked for socks beneath his cott, shooing away annoying spiders. 

      He emerged from the cupboard to see a mountain of brightly wrapped birthday presents that nearly took up the entire table. Harry had no doubt that Dudley would have everything he asked for and then some. With an annoyed and only mildly jealous eye roll, Harry turned to the stove to finish preparing breakfast. He would have to prepare a full Irish, unless he wanted to be burned on the stove top again for not preparing enough food. Harry of course, would get none of it. It's a good thing he hid those stale crackers then. 

     Harry was just finishing frying up some eggs, when the birthday boy himself waddled in the room looking like a fat pig in a blonde wig. Harry saw his lips moving slowly as he carefully counted the number of presents taking up nearly all the room on the table. He kept a careful eye on Dudley, as he set the first plate down dangerously close to falling in front of his uncle who was reading the morning paper. Because he was watching Dudley intently he saw the moment when he exploded in anger.

     "THIRTY-SIX, BUT LAST YEAR...LAST YEAR I GOT THIRTY-SEVEN!" He shouted.

      "Now, Dudley. You see this year some of them are quite bigger than last year." Uncle Vernon sweated, trying to appease his irate 11 year old son. 

      "I DON"T CARE HOW BIG THEY ARE!"

       "Now Pumpkin, when we go out, we'll get two more presents how does that sound?"

        "So that would be...that would be...thirty..." Dudley struggled with the math.

         _Thirty-eight, you blithering idiot._ Harry thought as he poured his uncle some coffee. _And you would know this if you actually did your own homework instead of making me do them._ Indeed, Harry was forced to do Dudley's homework each night, not caring if Harry finished his own or not. Uncle Vernon would beat him if he dared make better grades than Dudley. 

      "Thirty-eight, Sweatum." aunt Petunia crooned over his head. Dudley tried batting her hand away, just herrumpted as he plopped down into his seat to rip open presents.  

     His uncle just rustled his hair, proud of his son pulling a tantrum. "Little tyke, wants his money's worth. Just like his old man." He boasted with a pleased grin on his face. Dudley ignored the praise in lieu of opening his presents. A racing bike...a new computer...six computer games...a video camera...a VCR, ah-nd a gold watch.   

      Just then the telephone rang and aunt Petunia rushed up to answer. 

      "Bad news, Vernon. Mrs. Figg broke her leg tripping over one of her diseased cats. She's at the hospital and can't take HIM." She hissed out, greatly displeased with the situation. 

      "I can call Marge." 

      "Don't be absurd, your sister hates the boy."

      _Him, Boy, Freak._  His relatives never called him by his name, and talked about him like he wasn't even there. He was worse than the help, he was an indentured servant. His debt owed? Living in his relatives lavish broom cupboard, eating their splendid table scraps, and wearing Dudleys posh rags. 

      "We'll have to take him." 

       His ears pricked up at that. The Dudley's never elected to take him anywhere, let alone to the zoo on Dudley's birthday. 

      Dudley began to cry, loudly and obviously fake, in Harry's mind. Dudley hadn't cried in years, just found that he got his way if he wailed loud enough. 

     "I could just stay here." Harry hopefully chimed in. If he was left alone he could practice magic without fear of discovery. He could probably get away with it at Mrs. Figgs without her noticing. But to have the house to himself would be great.  

      "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Both relatives answered at once. 

      "I wont blow the house up,"  _Probably._ "Honest." Harry pleaded seeing his chance at practice slipping away.  

      "We could leave him in the car." She suggested.

      "And ruin my new patent leather. I do not think so." uncle Vernon denied.

       "You could lock me in my cupboard." Harry explored earnestly, his eyes big as saucers behind dark rimmed and broken glasses held together with duct tape. A little too earnest. 

      Uncle Vernon whipped his whole body around, not able to turn just his neck. His watery bitty eyes narrowed and teeth barred. "What are you planning, boi-ey!" He snarled lowly.

       Harry opened his mouth in denial, when the doorbell rang. Literally, _saved by the bell._ _Thank you, Piers!._ Harry smirked when everyone turned their heads towards the door when it opened unannounced.  _Speak of the devil, and he shall come._

Piers Polkiss was a scrawny boy with a face a bit like a rat. He was Dudley's best friend and Harry knew him for all the times he held his arms behind his back while Dudley walloped on him. Upon seeing his friend he stopped crying at once. 

      Harry barely containing an eye-roll as he sat by and watched the crazy unfold. 

       _Just my luck!_ Harry thought as he was stuffed in the back of uncle Vernon's new patent leather car beside the rat nosed Piers and Fat Dudley. Before they left, his uncle had pulled him aside to growl in his face. 

     "I'm warning you, now, boi-ey, any funny business, any at-tal, and you'll see no meals for a week." 

     "I'm not going to do anything, uncle Vernon, honestly" said Harry.  _How can I when I am here with you?_ Harry thought bitterly. 

     But his uncle didn't believe him. Neither did his aunt. They seemed to think he had dangerous ideas. 

* * *

     The day at the zoo was surprisingly fun for Harry, despite the sweltering heat and great disappointment in not getting a day to himself. He manages to puppy-dog eye the ice cream van owner to get the Dursleys to buy him an ice-cream with lunch. It was only a lemon pop, but it was refreshing and Harry wasn't going to complain. He was even allowed to swipe Dudley's knickerbocker while he was throwing a tantrum over it not having enough ice cream on top.  

      As the afternoon wore on, Harry worried more and more for his bodily safety. They already saw the birds, the monkeys, and the feline exhibit, in which a bird pooped on Dudleys shoes, the monkeys kept displaying their big pink buts to Piers, and the lions slept in their cool caves and refused to come out. Dudley and Piers were getting bored of the animals. And when they got bored they fell back on their favorite past time. Beating up on Harry. 

      Harry stayed as far away from the whispering duo as much as possible. 

     The most eventful part of the day was the reptile exhibition Dudley had been looking forward to seeing the dangerous and venomous snakes of the world, such as the King Cobra, which wasn't a cobra at all or a Black Mamba which was not actually black but a ghostly gray with a green sheen and a pitch black mouth, or even the giant python. Behind glass. Harry bet that if any of these  reptiles raised in captivity were to escape Dudley would surely wet himself. He had to hide a snigger behind a cough. 

      It was a nice retreat from the June heat inside the reptile exhibition.  cool and dark. All along the walls were lit windows showcasing snakes and lizards from all over the world and various colours and sizes. They crawled, hung, slithered, and hid behind, in front of, next to, on top of, and beneath various wood fixtures and rocks. 

     Dudley and Piers ran straight for the largest snake in the room, knocking over the littler kids to make his way to the front so he could smash his nose, pig-like against the glass. Behind the glass, the massive Boa Constrictor looked like it could easily wrap around his uncles car twice no problem, but at the moment it appeared to be sleeping. A sentiment that clearly Dudley and Piers didn't approve of. In aggravation they rapped their knuckles very loudly on the glass, shouting "Move!" The Boa Constrictor didn't even budge. 

      "Make it move!" Dudley demanded snottily to his father. Uncle Vernon in turn huffed out a breath beneath his massive mustache, rapping his own knuckles against the glass and then said very loudly, "MOVE!" 

      The Boa did not. 

      "This is bore-ing!" Dudley proclaimed disappointedly when he didn't get his way. Something that Harry found he did often, if not frequently with his parents. 

      Harry had waited in the back for the Dursleys to move along so that he could have a chance to peer in at the sleeping coiled reptilian giant. He looked quite sympathetically towards the caged creature. Waiting the standard ten seconds, Harry then began to talk to the creature. Comforted in the fact that this creature would not judge or ridicule him, he began to speak with the poor beast. Not realizing he was speaking another language other than English. 

      **"Sorry 'bout him."** Harry began. **"He doesn't understand what it's like, laying there, day after day. watching people press their ugly faces in on you."** The giant snake slowly raised its head to peer up at Harry. It tilted its head almost like a puppy, flicking its tongue out inquizetly. Harry was startled the boa hadn't bothered to move when the others were near, just when it was alone with Harry. 

     And the snake was massive, it easily overtook Harry's miniature stacher in seconds when it raised its head. 

      Harry smiled ruefully. _Why am I talking to a snake? It's not like it can understand me._ **"The sign says you were raised in captivity. So, you never knew your parents either, eh? I wish I knew mine. Are you lonely in here by yourself? I know you're surrounded by people and other reptiles, but sometimes even in a crowed you can feel lonely."**

The snake peered at Harry intensely, before opening its mouth, in what Harry thought was going to be a hiss. 

    **"You sound like snake people, but you don't look like snake people, wee little Muggle hatchling. Thank you for your concern. I hate it here in this tiny cage that Muggles captured me in."** The snake's muffled reply came from behind several layers of shatterproof glass. 

      **"You can hear me?"** Harry said astounded. **"I mean...of course...hehe...you understand what I am saying?"** Harry flubbed out.  

      **"Yes, and you can hear me, too."** The snake said sounding quite amused with the nonsensical conversation. 

      **"Aw, ri-ght!"** He drew out awkwardly. 

      **"So, snake people, who is not snake people."**  The actual snake said to Harry. **"Why is that a Muggle hatchling can speak with the great and wise Kaa?"**

 **"Dunno, never had the chance before today."** Harry replied.  " **Do you talk to others or is it just me. I mean is it...magic?"**  He looked discreetly around. It wouldn't do to have the Dursley's find out. 

      **"Awe, so you are a wizard hatchling and not just a Muggle hatchling."** Kaa hissed out. **"Rare for wizard hatchlings to speak parseltongue or snake tongue. You wizard hatchling are a parselmouth, able to speak to other snake people like myself."** Kaa revealed.  

      **"I'm a what? A wizard, you say? Do you know much about me?"** Harry asked. Perhaps he could explain more about magic and how to control it. 

      **"You, young parselmouth, I know nothing."** Harry hung his head in disappointment. It just figured the giant talking snake couldn't tell him anything. Kaa seemed to pounder for a moment. **"Your people...perhaps."**

      Harry was elated.

      **"What is your sires name, wizard hatchling?"**

      **"Potter."**

      **"Hn, a Potter!"** Kaa coiled back in on itself in thought. **"Indeed, you are a wizard. Your Sire was from an ancient and noble bloodline."**

      **"Noble bloodlines, like royalty?"**  

      **"No, more like prestige held by power; political, societal, and magical. Yes. Great things can be expected of you.**

**"What do you mean? I am nobody special. I'm Harry, just Harry."**

**"Well just Harry, your family according to your surname is one of the wealthiest pureblood wizarding families around. A Fortune of gold awaits you at Gringotts, if only you are able to claim it. Harry Potter."** Harry didn't realize he had been drawing attention to himself. Piers noticed him talking, nudged Dudley.

**"How do you know all this, Kaa?"**

**"Because, I am Kaa. I see the past and the future, wee wizard."**

**"What?** " Harry exclaimed loudly, before looking around frantically. He saw people staring, whispering, and pointing. Worse, he saw his aunt and uncle standing near by. His uncles face purple, and his aunts face bone white. 

      **"You'll be trained soon enough. Wait for the letters to arrive."** Suddenly he was punched in his ribs by Piers and shoved aside by his fate whale of a cousin, who smashed his nose flat against the glass. Kaa coiled back, not in fright but disgust, hissing, **"Begone, filthy Muggle hatchling, begone. Oh for Araua sake, Potter. Help me escape from here and I will help you achieve greatness."**

 From the floor he glared at his cousin, his glasses had been knocked askew, and he scraped his elbow on the cement flooring. He felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach, a serging of magic from his core, and radiating out like an invisible ray of light heading directly for the glass that the Boa Constrictor resided behind, and Dudley's nose smashed piglike against. 

      The glass didn't break or shatter, it simply vanished. 

      Kaa escaped. He slithered across the floor, around people, and beneath their feet. 

      Harry thought he heard the sound of the snake saying goodbye.

      "Adios Amigos." He declared.

      Dudley tumbled into the once glass enclosure. Piers had tried to pull him back, but was dragged down along with his obese friend. Harry sat on the floor of the snake exhibition his mouth open in astonishment.  _I did that._  

     Kaa slithered over the now windowless enclosure, dragging his huge weight across Dudley's prone form. Aunt Petunia screamed. The sound drew the rest of the occupants to be aware of the released boa constrictor. Chaos and mayhem ensured. While the rest of the occupants ran away in fear, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon ran towards the glass that their son had fallen into. When Dudley stood up, undoubtedly shaken, he discovered that the glass had appeared again. He began to scream, his muffled shouts enunciated with vibration against the glass and the sound of his fists pounding against reinforced glass. 

     Mr. Dudley called over a worker, a pimply faced redhead teen out of his league. He kept rifling through a pamphlet stammering and finally getting on the radio to call maintenance and a supervisor at the enraged purple faced man screaming in his face, making threats. 

     Zoologists and the police were also called. 

     The zoo director personally made aunt Petunia a strong cuppa. Dudley and Piers were huddled under blankets jabbering away, with slushies, Didley's slushie was red, and Piers' was blue. They were no worse for wear. Uncle Vernon was talking to the police. 

     "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ZOO WILL BE PRESSING CHARGES FOR ALLOWING A BLOODY SNAKE OUT OF CONFINEMENT." Uncle Vernon soundly screamed. 

      The policeman took a hesitant step back, one hand raised, and the other hovered over his gun. "No, Mr. Dursley. I know your upset. But you must see how grave it is to let a dangerous and invasive creature like a Brazilian Boa Constrictor out into the city. Animal control has still not been able to obtain the confused beast, and they will still need to be compensated for their service and time." The policeman tried to reason. 

     "I DO NOT LIKE WHAT YOU ARE INSINUATING, SIR!"  

     "Your son, snuck into the exhibit, most likely on a dare. The snake got out, the door closed and locked the boys inside. There is simply no other logical, rational explanation for how the snake got out and the boys locked in." The policeman said. 

     A light bulb went off in his uncle's head. "BOI-EY!" Harry's uncle shouted at him in a rampant charge towards his nephew. The hit game swifter than expected. Harry's already frail and bruised body collapsed to the floor, blood spurting everywhere and his whole left side of his face erupted in pain, while white and dark spots swam in his vision when his head hit the cement floor. 

     Muffled shouts were heard. The policeman, a laughingly punny man compared to his enormous uncle, was trying to restrain his uncle from stepping on him. A slightly bulkier guard charged into the room to help. The room went dark for Harry and he heard no more.

* * *

      When he came to, Harry was in the back of his uncle's car. It was just he and his aunt and cousin. Uncle Vernon was not in the moving vehicle, nor was Piers. Dudley sat in the shotgun seat next to his mother, who was driving. Harry was laying across the back seat, bleeding on his uncles patent leather seats. Despite trying to remain quiet when he woke, he groaned involuntarily. His cousin in the front seat turned around at the sound, frightened. 

      "Mum, he's awake." He whispered hoarsely in fright.

       "I can see that!" Came the clipped response from his aunt. Green eyes met pinched blue in the rearview mirror. Harry gulped. He had never seen his aunt so angry before. 

       "My husband... is in jail. because of you. Social workers will surely be coming to check out your..," She sneered, "living conditions. I will be calling a lawyer. You." She spat out, will stay in your cupboard until I say otherwise, and when the social worker comes you will say exactly as I say." Her words left no room for argument.  

      "You ruin everything." Dudley said sulkingly, before turning back around in his seat. 

      He was once more in his cupboard, his reprieve at the zoo a short lived one. He heard his aunt talking frantically on the phone from the kitchen. Pacing, but prevented from moving very far due to being tethered to the wall. She sounded pissed. Not just livid, but drunk as well. This cannot be good. Aunt Petunia has never drunk out of control like this.

      "He attacked my son, Marge and put your brother in jail. He is a delinquent freak and needs to be locked up for good. Can you arrange that?" She was saying. Harry was frozen with shock. _Locked up, locked up?_

      That was it. Harry couldn't stay. Channeling his rage, he let it explode out of him, blasting the hinges off his cupboard. The revolving door of the kitchen squeaked as it swung back and forth from the wind caused by the blast, revealing his aunts petrified face.

      "Marge, I have to go. I have a freak to deal with." She didn't wait for a reply just hung up and advanced towards that door. Each time the door swung back around to reveal her closer and closer with a mocking squeak of the door.  

      Harry looked around frantic, not knowing what to do. So far, all he has ever been able to do is unlock doors, vanish glass, and heal wounds (Two of those were involuntary) . No, no, no, no, no!

     "STOP! FREEZE! DON'T MOVE!" He hallared louder than even he expected, his adrenaline high and air cracking with electricity. 

    Aunt Petunia did not move a step forward, her fullward march frozen mid-step, face stuck in that awful position. Was she even breathing? Yes, he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest. 

     "I am not going to let you beat me, again. Or starve me, or lock me in that cupboard. Or anywhere else for that matter. In fact, I am out! Leaving, gone. You'll never have to see me again after today." 

     Harry pushed around aunt Petunia, who overbalanced and tumbled sideways to the floor still stuck in that position. Taking her purse off the side table near the fridge, he ruffled through her wallet. He heard a muffled shout behind him. He turned to face his aunt, to hear muffled sounds coming from her snarling unmoving lips. Shuddering, he continued with his mission-pilfering money from his aunts purse. 

      "I am taking this," He said gallantly, while holding up a pile of banknotes. "You owe me, not the other way around. Think it as a fee for services rendered." He said, sarcastically. They worked him like a slave. Well this is a slave revolt. 

       "Don't call the police, or social services, and don't come looking for me. I'll do far worse to you and yours if you do." Harry didn't like violence, but he didn't know what his magic would do when angry. Making his aunt believe he could hurt them, might keep them from following. Putting the purse back where he got t from, he ran straight out the door. In his mind he echoed Kass's goodbye. 

       " _Adios Amigos!"_      

* * *

       Harry managed to pilfer £120 from his petrified aunt's purse. Harry had no idea how far this would take him, but he had to get out of Little Whinging. That meant he needed to use the money sparingly, which meant a cab was out.  _Perhaps an Express coach or the Underground, the railway?_

Admittingly,Harry did not think his plan through _._ He gave a frustrated sigh as his too tight, and worn out trainers pounded the pavement as he ran away from the 4 bedroom, one bath, and one tiny broom cupboard house that he had the misfortune to call home for the past 9 years. Around the bend was a dead end cul-de-sac that made up Mongolia Crescent and Mrs. Figgs, just passed on Wisteria Walk. If Mrs. Figgs hadn't broken her leg today via Mr. Paws her abnormally large and slightly wild looking cat, Harry would have never went to the zoo and met Kaa. As it was he was most unfortunate to not have to sit through another boring day of listening to her drone on about her prize winning cats, eat stale cake, listen to her god awful piano, and cough up fur balls floating in the air from her cabbage smelling house. 

      _Good riddens!_ Harry thought fleetingly  before guilt chased it away. It wasn't as if the crazy old coot deserved to break her leg while tripping over one of her numerous cats.  

**Author's Note:**

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